Goodbye to God.
Another Yu-Gi-Oh! fan fic with (guess what?) Quentin Tarantino-inspiration by Heavens to Bikini Kill
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This is One.
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Drugs, generally, are supposed to be really bad for you. Not just physically, but also socially. That is, being anywhere near any sort of illegal drugs is essentially putting both your physical life and your social life (particularly when you're best friends with Motou Yuugi, who would smile in your face, but turn around and delete your number from his cell phone) in danger.
However, compare that to dodging your three hundred and fifteenth bottle in the past six months, and earning your fifth punch of the week, and being called a worthless piece of shit for the third time that day, and you should really, really want to find a very quick way to get out.
Some, who don't know my family very well, would suggest that I go move to Hiroshima and live with my mother and sister. Those people are straight foolish. My mother hates me. My sister will be quick to disagree, but what logical explanation is there for 1) taking my sister, the one who I promised to protect for the rest of my life, away from me when I was only eight, and 2) leaving me in Domino to live with a man who she knew for a fact was dangerously alcoholic? So, obviously, living within a ten mile radius of that woman was not an option.
My best bet would be to simply move out. Problem: moving out of your home of seven years and into some apartment all by yourself requires money. Quite a bit of it. Money that I don't have.
Some, who and refuse to keep their noses out of other people's business, would then move on to suggest that I get myself a part-time job and raise enough money to move out. Not much of an option either. What part-time job out there can possibly provide enough money in enough time so I can get out that home with all of my limbs intact?
It was a dilemma that absorbed my very being. I couldn't concentrate anything else but finding a solution, and an effective one at that. In fact, I had been yelled at by teachers twice as much in class for the past week. Honda noticed and it didn't matter because he already knew all about my worthless father. Anzu scolded me and gave me an extremely long lecture on the value of public education (I didn't listen). Yuugi and his yami, Atemu both told to me to believe in myself (at least they weren't yapping about the heart of the cards).
On a Thursday, I opted to walk straight home, rather than go with my friends out to Yuugi's grandfather's game shop. At this point in time, not even Duel Monsters could help me get over the fact that I needed out, and I needed out soon. Don't forget that moving in with one of my friends was a really bad idea, I wouldn't put it past my dad to threaten them or something. (Not that he posed an actual threat.)
I was so drawn into myself, so deep into my thoughts that I totally ignored my surroundings. (Not a smart thing to do, considering my neighborhood.) It only took two seconds to realize that I had this pounding headache deriving from a sudden impact. I looked to see the cause, and found a tall, glaring man with freakishly bright pink hair.
Another thing. This guy had an obscene amount of facial piercings. Like he wants to be Kakihara or something. [A/N: Kakihara is a character in this crappy Japanese movie "Ichi the Killer" and he has tons upon tons of facial metal. Like world record amount. It looks cool, but the movie's still crappy.] I forced a pleasant, apologetic smile. It looked gross, I already knew. "Gomen, gomen nasai. It's my fault, I wasn't paying much attention."
The metal-ridden face curled into a visible snarl, and the four rings he had stabbed into his lip quivered as he snapped, "Sorry? You knocked into ME and all you can say is SORRY?"
I seriously thought I was gonna die, or at least face terrible mutilation.
But God created this wonderful little thing called luck, and another man walked up behind him, who looked relatively normal. "Eh, Kohta. Back off, can't you tell that he's got enough problems?" He smiled and nodded at me, his super straight bangs falling in front of his eyes. He brushed them away, and pushed this Kohta person behind him. "Excuse my friend. All the stuff that he does gets him really high-strung."
I nodded, my mouth agape. I was just happy to escape inevitable harm.
"I feel really bad about Kohta over here," he continued, "so why don't I treat you to an after-school snack? There's a tiny little coffeeshop just down the street, I know you've probably heard of it before..."
I laughed nervously and politely declined. "No, thanks. I don't care for coffee."
He raised an eyebrow, and obviously would not accept any form of rejection. "At least let me buy you an ice cream, there's a cart always available at the park."
Ice cream? Now he was speaking my language. How could I possibly refuse?
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So there I was, sitting on a wooden bench in the park just two blocks away from my home, slurping on a lemon ice pop (it wasn't that bad) with Kohta the pink-haired-facial-metal-man-with-homicidal-tendencies, and some relatively normal man (why he had anything to do with Kohta, I don't know) who only called himself AK. (Although he HAD to show everybody that he probably was obsessive-compulsive by frequently running his hands through his hair and constantly adjusting his sunglasses.)
What? The park is a pretty public place, right?
AK seemed to enjoy watching me suck on that popsicle immensely, and I tried not to be so obvious. "There was a reason why you didn't see Kohta. Problem you need to solve?"
Who the hell IS this guy? I'm not telling him about my history, I don't care if he just bought me a popsicle! I made that sentiment obvious through ignoring him and concentrating my attention to the ice pop.
He smirked. I've adopted an immense hate of all smirks, I owe that to Kaiba. "I know that expression. You need money, and you need it fast."
I nearly choked on the syrup. "What? I've no idea what you're talking about."
"I've gone through tons of guys like you. You need money, but everyone tells you that hard work will eventually solve your problem." He snorted contemptuously. "But they never see that you can't spare any time, you need the money NOW."
I chose to concede, I've always been told that I can be read like a children's picture book. "So what does that have to do with anything?"
His smile grew even wider, and my mind screamed "pervert!" I opted to immediately toss the rest of my popsicle, though I normally suck the stick dry. "I can help you."
"Help me?" I was intrigued, I couldn't help it.
"Yes, but it requires a bit of... secrecy on your part."
"Oh, get to the point already, AK," Kohta growled. He had said earlier that he simply could not tolerate being around nature for very long.
AK nodded. "I would like you to be a... courier."
"You don't even know me."
"But I can already tell that you are the prime example of the type of delivery boy that I need." He examined me carefully. "In fact, I think you'll be perfect for the job. All you really need to do is take 'packages' to whatever address I give you. It's remarkably simple."
I raised an eyebrow. "Then why would I need secrecy?"
"You wanna know what happened to the last courier who could keep his mouth shut?" Kohta jumped in. "AK had me... let him go."
AK tried to gloss things over. "The packages are very private, and our customers would prefer that nobody know. It's not necessary for outsiders to worry about our services. Understand?"
I nodded.
"So, are you down or what?" Kohta insisted.
I searched for words. "I'm not all that sure..."
Kohta sighed in pure irritation and turned to AK. "Are you sure about this offer? This guy must be a fucking retard or something..."
AK shook that off and pulled out a scrap of paper, grabbing a pen from Kohta. "Look, I can see why you're cautious." He scribbled some numbers and handed the paper to me. "When you've reached a decision, call." He nodded to Kohta and they both got up, signaling that they were going to leave.
Kohta gave me the evil eye before they left. "Don't call if you don't want in, got it?"
Drugs, generally, are supposed to be really bad for you. I don't think that drug trafficking counts.
[A/N: Whoa dawgs! A brand new fic! And I've gone from robbing banks to drug trafficking! I promise there will be no love triangle this time (to all the people who despised the idea of an OC with Jou way back in "Men In Suits"... I invite you to peep that one anyway), it'll be straight up SetoxJou. But it will take a while for them to love each other, I mean, we we've gotta be realistic. But I am considering some lust flying around... give Kaiba somebody to beat the shit out of. Anyhow, I'm hoping this fic works out, 'cuz I've had a lot that haven't. Leave a review, and I LOVE CONCRIT. I LIVE for concrit.]
Another Yu-Gi-Oh! fan fic with (guess what?) Quentin Tarantino-inspiration by Heavens to Bikini Kill
--------
This is One.
--------
Drugs, generally, are supposed to be really bad for you. Not just physically, but also socially. That is, being anywhere near any sort of illegal drugs is essentially putting both your physical life and your social life (particularly when you're best friends with Motou Yuugi, who would smile in your face, but turn around and delete your number from his cell phone) in danger.
However, compare that to dodging your three hundred and fifteenth bottle in the past six months, and earning your fifth punch of the week, and being called a worthless piece of shit for the third time that day, and you should really, really want to find a very quick way to get out.
Some, who don't know my family very well, would suggest that I go move to Hiroshima and live with my mother and sister. Those people are straight foolish. My mother hates me. My sister will be quick to disagree, but what logical explanation is there for 1) taking my sister, the one who I promised to protect for the rest of my life, away from me when I was only eight, and 2) leaving me in Domino to live with a man who she knew for a fact was dangerously alcoholic? So, obviously, living within a ten mile radius of that woman was not an option.
My best bet would be to simply move out. Problem: moving out of your home of seven years and into some apartment all by yourself requires money. Quite a bit of it. Money that I don't have.
Some, who and refuse to keep their noses out of other people's business, would then move on to suggest that I get myself a part-time job and raise enough money to move out. Not much of an option either. What part-time job out there can possibly provide enough money in enough time so I can get out that home with all of my limbs intact?
It was a dilemma that absorbed my very being. I couldn't concentrate anything else but finding a solution, and an effective one at that. In fact, I had been yelled at by teachers twice as much in class for the past week. Honda noticed and it didn't matter because he already knew all about my worthless father. Anzu scolded me and gave me an extremely long lecture on the value of public education (I didn't listen). Yuugi and his yami, Atemu both told to me to believe in myself (at least they weren't yapping about the heart of the cards).
On a Thursday, I opted to walk straight home, rather than go with my friends out to Yuugi's grandfather's game shop. At this point in time, not even Duel Monsters could help me get over the fact that I needed out, and I needed out soon. Don't forget that moving in with one of my friends was a really bad idea, I wouldn't put it past my dad to threaten them or something. (Not that he posed an actual threat.)
I was so drawn into myself, so deep into my thoughts that I totally ignored my surroundings. (Not a smart thing to do, considering my neighborhood.) It only took two seconds to realize that I had this pounding headache deriving from a sudden impact. I looked to see the cause, and found a tall, glaring man with freakishly bright pink hair.
Another thing. This guy had an obscene amount of facial piercings. Like he wants to be Kakihara or something. [A/N: Kakihara is a character in this crappy Japanese movie "Ichi the Killer" and he has tons upon tons of facial metal. Like world record amount. It looks cool, but the movie's still crappy.] I forced a pleasant, apologetic smile. It looked gross, I already knew. "Gomen, gomen nasai. It's my fault, I wasn't paying much attention."
The metal-ridden face curled into a visible snarl, and the four rings he had stabbed into his lip quivered as he snapped, "Sorry? You knocked into ME and all you can say is SORRY?"
I seriously thought I was gonna die, or at least face terrible mutilation.
But God created this wonderful little thing called luck, and another man walked up behind him, who looked relatively normal. "Eh, Kohta. Back off, can't you tell that he's got enough problems?" He smiled and nodded at me, his super straight bangs falling in front of his eyes. He brushed them away, and pushed this Kohta person behind him. "Excuse my friend. All the stuff that he does gets him really high-strung."
I nodded, my mouth agape. I was just happy to escape inevitable harm.
"I feel really bad about Kohta over here," he continued, "so why don't I treat you to an after-school snack? There's a tiny little coffeeshop just down the street, I know you've probably heard of it before..."
I laughed nervously and politely declined. "No, thanks. I don't care for coffee."
He raised an eyebrow, and obviously would not accept any form of rejection. "At least let me buy you an ice cream, there's a cart always available at the park."
Ice cream? Now he was speaking my language. How could I possibly refuse?
----
So there I was, sitting on a wooden bench in the park just two blocks away from my home, slurping on a lemon ice pop (it wasn't that bad) with Kohta the pink-haired-facial-metal-man-with-homicidal-tendencies, and some relatively normal man (why he had anything to do with Kohta, I don't know) who only called himself AK. (Although he HAD to show everybody that he probably was obsessive-compulsive by frequently running his hands through his hair and constantly adjusting his sunglasses.)
What? The park is a pretty public place, right?
AK seemed to enjoy watching me suck on that popsicle immensely, and I tried not to be so obvious. "There was a reason why you didn't see Kohta. Problem you need to solve?"
Who the hell IS this guy? I'm not telling him about my history, I don't care if he just bought me a popsicle! I made that sentiment obvious through ignoring him and concentrating my attention to the ice pop.
He smirked. I've adopted an immense hate of all smirks, I owe that to Kaiba. "I know that expression. You need money, and you need it fast."
I nearly choked on the syrup. "What? I've no idea what you're talking about."
"I've gone through tons of guys like you. You need money, but everyone tells you that hard work will eventually solve your problem." He snorted contemptuously. "But they never see that you can't spare any time, you need the money NOW."
I chose to concede, I've always been told that I can be read like a children's picture book. "So what does that have to do with anything?"
His smile grew even wider, and my mind screamed "pervert!" I opted to immediately toss the rest of my popsicle, though I normally suck the stick dry. "I can help you."
"Help me?" I was intrigued, I couldn't help it.
"Yes, but it requires a bit of... secrecy on your part."
"Oh, get to the point already, AK," Kohta growled. He had said earlier that he simply could not tolerate being around nature for very long.
AK nodded. "I would like you to be a... courier."
"You don't even know me."
"But I can already tell that you are the prime example of the type of delivery boy that I need." He examined me carefully. "In fact, I think you'll be perfect for the job. All you really need to do is take 'packages' to whatever address I give you. It's remarkably simple."
I raised an eyebrow. "Then why would I need secrecy?"
"You wanna know what happened to the last courier who could keep his mouth shut?" Kohta jumped in. "AK had me... let him go."
AK tried to gloss things over. "The packages are very private, and our customers would prefer that nobody know. It's not necessary for outsiders to worry about our services. Understand?"
I nodded.
"So, are you down or what?" Kohta insisted.
I searched for words. "I'm not all that sure..."
Kohta sighed in pure irritation and turned to AK. "Are you sure about this offer? This guy must be a fucking retard or something..."
AK shook that off and pulled out a scrap of paper, grabbing a pen from Kohta. "Look, I can see why you're cautious." He scribbled some numbers and handed the paper to me. "When you've reached a decision, call." He nodded to Kohta and they both got up, signaling that they were going to leave.
Kohta gave me the evil eye before they left. "Don't call if you don't want in, got it?"
Drugs, generally, are supposed to be really bad for you. I don't think that drug trafficking counts.
[A/N: Whoa dawgs! A brand new fic! And I've gone from robbing banks to drug trafficking! I promise there will be no love triangle this time (to all the people who despised the idea of an OC with Jou way back in "Men In Suits"... I invite you to peep that one anyway), it'll be straight up SetoxJou. But it will take a while for them to love each other, I mean, we we've gotta be realistic. But I am considering some lust flying around... give Kaiba somebody to beat the shit out of. Anyhow, I'm hoping this fic works out, 'cuz I've had a lot that haven't. Leave a review, and I LOVE CONCRIT. I LIVE for concrit.]